The strong hand lifted, rebellion broke out, and for awhile it looked as if Chu Hia must sink into the beast again.  His feeble son got rid of Meng-tien, poisoned Li Ssu, offered the feeblest resistance to the rebels, and then poisoned himself.  After four years of fighting,—­what you might call “unpleasantness all round,”—­one Liu Pang achieved the throne.  He had started life as a beadle; joined Ts’in Shi Hwangti’s army, and risen to be a general; created himself after the emperor’s death Prince of Han; and now had the honor to inaugurate, as Emperor Kaotsu, the greatest of the Chinese dynasties.

In the two-fifties strong barbarous Ts’in had swallowed unmanly worn-out China, and for half a century had been digesting the feast.  Then—­to mix my metaphors a little—­China flopped up to the surface again, pale, but smiling blandly.  In the sunlight she gathered strength and cohesion, and proceeded presently to swallow Ts’in and everything else in sight; and emerged soon young, strong, vigorous, and glowing-hearted to the conquest of many worlds in the unknown.  What was Ts’in, now is Shensi Province, the very Heart of Han:  the Shensi man today is the Son of Han, Ts’in Englished; but in Shensi, the old Ts’in, in their tenderest moods, they call it Han still,—­the proudest most patriotic name there is for it.

Not at once was the Golden Age of Han to dawn:  half a thirteen-decade cycle from the opening of the manvantara in the two-forties had to pass first.  Ts’in Shi Hwangti had mapped out a great empire; it fell to the Hans to consolidate it.  Han Kaotsu followed somewhat in the footsteps of his predecessor, less the cruelty and barbarism, and most of the strength.  The sentiment of the empire was Chinese, not Ts’innish; so, though not a brilliant or always a fortunate soldier, he was able to assert his sway over the greater part of China Proper.  Chinesism had spread over territories never before Chinese, and wherever it had spread, the people were glad of a Chinese dynasty; besides, his rule was tactful and kindly.  They were glad that the Gods of the Soil of Han were to be worshipped now, and those of Ts’in disthroned; and that the Ts’in edicts were annulled;—­as they were with one important exception:  those relating to literature.  A cultureless son of the proletariat himself.  Han Kaotsu felt no urge towards resurrecting that; and perhaps it was as well that the sleeping dogs should be let lie awhile.  The wonder is that the old nationalities did not reassert themselves; but they did not, to any extent worth mentioning; and perhaps this is the best proof of Han Kaotsu’s real strength.  Ts’in Shi Hwangti had dealt soundly with the everlasting Hun in his time; but when he died, the Hun recovered.  They kept Han Kaotsu busy, so that his saddle, as he said, was his throne.  They raided past the capital and down into Ssechuan; once very nearly captured the emperor; and had to be brought out at last with